


Not My Forte

by Ivrigasked



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Music, Baz has had ENOUGH, Dev is a little shit, Fluff, Guitar playing Niall, M/M, Royal College of Music, Slow Burn, Trumpet playing Dev, Violin player Baz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23233366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivrigasked/pseuds/Ivrigasked
Summary: Baz is a highly skilled violin player attending school at the Royal College of Music, and everything is on track. He's got good friends and a supportive family, not to mention the cute upright bass player he's been pining after for two years. But when an inconsiderate stranger moves into the flat directly above him, Baz begins to think that he might lose his mind before their third year is over.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! 
> 
> Did I not just finish a 50k word fic? I did. But I have a ton of free time and a billion ideas, so please cut me some slack. I’m very bored at work without any customers, and it’s because of that fact that I was able to rewrite this first chapter twice in two days. 
> 
> I can’t promise that I’ll be sticking to any kind of update schedule, but since I have all this spare time, who knows. 
> 
> If you'd like to come hang out with me on twitter, that link is [here](https://twitter.com/Ivrigasked) or, [tumblr](https://captain-sass-pants.tumblr.com/) as always. 
> 
> Anyway, here you go! Please enjoy!

I haven’t gotten a good night's rest in over 3 months. We’re well into the fall term and my grades are slipping, which is _not good_ because when I started going to the Royal College of Music in London two years ago, I told my father that it was the right decision, that I wanted to pursue a career in music, and I need to keep my grades up so that I don’t prove myself wrong. But if I keep not sleeping, I’m afraid that my grades will slip too low to control and I’ll lose everything I’ve worked so hard for. I need this school. I need this degree. I need to be able to _sleep_. 

Unfortunately, my upstairs neighbour seems to have other ideas for me and my future. Since they moved in back in August, all they’ve done is make noise. From stomping around uncontrollably to playing their fucking bass guitar as loud as humanly possible right as I’m about to shut my eyes, they might be the most inconsiderate person I’ve ever encountered. 

Not that we’ve ever met—at least to my knowledge. I don’t often see my neighbours, unless it’s the grumpy old lady from 3B who always gripes at me about getting a haircut. I tend to keep to myself and mind my own business, spending most of my time at school going to class and orchestra practice. But if we had, I’d be sure that the wanker knows just who they’ve been messing with. I have half a mind to give them a taste of their own medicine, but I can hardly manage so much as playing a g chord right now, let alone plan a revenge scheme. I _really_ need to sleep. 

—— 

Monday comes faster than I’d like, and I’m halfway through my fourth cup of coffee when Dev comes striding up beside me on my way to French class. 

“Alright, Baz? You look like you’ve died.” He says. 

“Astute of you.” I mumble, frowning. 

“You should talk to your landlord, mate. This is getting out of hand. I’ve never seen you so wiry.” 

“Devereux, if you keep insulting me, I will not hesitate to throw my coffee at you.” 

“I don’t think you would, actually, since it’s the only thing getting you through the day.” Dev snorts, shoving me with his shoulder. I turn to glare at him, and feel a sharp pain behind my eyes. 

“Please stop talking,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s giving me a migraine.” 

“You know you can always come stay with us, we have the extra bedroom.” 

“No, thank you. Your roommate has despicable cleaning habits.” 

“Well you’re not—“ 

“And I’m quite fond of my mattress, even if we have a complicated relationship.” 

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Dev laughs, putting his hands up in surrender. “But if things get worse, I’m going to demand you stay somewhere else because I’ll only put up with this,” he gestures vaguely at me, “for so much longer.” 

“I could just break my lease and move somewhere else,” I shrug. “That way I could take my bed with me.” 

“You love your flat, you prat. Talk to your landlord. Or hell, go pound on the blokes door and tell him to shove it,” 

“I would, if I had the mental wherewithal to handle something like that right now,” I say as we approach the language building. I stop, turning towards him, “but for now, _je dois persévérer._ ” 

“Yeah, _au revoir_ or whatever,” Dev replies, rolling his eyes and walking away. “See you later. Try not to fall asleep in class.” 

I flip him the finger and he laughs as he turns away and walks toward his own class. If French class doesn’t kill me, talking with Dev certainly will. 

  
  
  


That night, I think that maybe for the first time, I’ll be able to get some rest. I’ve been home since four and haven’t heard a single noise upstairs. Not a flushed toilet, not a single footstep. Could the elusive upstairs neighbour be out? Did this mystery bloke actually have friends? 

I eat my dinner slowly with the telly low, enjoying the peace and quiet. Then I spend the remainder of the early evening practicing violin, stopping just before quiet hours, because I for one, am _respectful_ of my neighbours. I take my shower, do some laundry, and get myself ready for bed, all without hearing a sound come from above me. It’s nice, actually. Calming. I forgot what living in solitude felt like, provided that being home meant that I’d constantly have a barrage of noises accompanying me and my home life. Going without for a single night has given me a reprieve I didn’t realize I needed so badly. 

I’m in my bed at eleven pm with my book and some tea, when I hear the tell-tale sound of their door opening. _For fuck’s sake._ The stomping starts in the kitchen, and it’s amazing that I can even hear it. This person must weigh 300 pounds with the way they walk, or at the very least wear steel boots all the time. I try to tune out the noise and focus on the words on the page, but the stomping makes its way into the bedroom eventually, and I know for certain that I won’t be getting any sleep just from the sound of walking alone. 

But then they turn their amplifier, the feedback audible through the thin floorboards, and start playing bass. 

  
  


——

The next day, I’m sitting with Dev and tuning my violin before orchestra practice, when Dev kicks me in the shin out of nowhere. 

“Excuse you?” I growl, glancing up at him. 

“Look who it is,” he whispers, jutting his chin toward the door. I frown and look over, but my eyebrows rebelliously shoot into my hairline when my brain catches up to what I’m seeing. 

I don’t know why I’m always surprised to see him. Of course he always shows up for practice. Boys like that don’t disappear, no matter how much you wish they would. His existence is torturous, because he’s so good, so nice, so pure, so much entirely the opposite of me. 

I hated him the second I saw him. He was already well known in the music community for his talent, and people jokingly called him _The Chosen One_ , because he received a full ride scholarship to RCM from some unknown, wealthy source. Everyone he met adored him, because it’s nearly impossible not too. He just means _well_ , and it’s difficult to ignore. 

Things changed over the course of the following years. I watched him, thinking, _surely he’s arrogant_. But I was wrong, and I couldn’t be further from the truth. He was practically two blessings away from being a saint. He was humbled by things that would normally make a person conceited, he was generous and funny and kind, all on top of being drop dead gorgeous. 

So I stare at him for a few moments, and I say I won’t let myself do it again, but I always do. I drag my eyes along his freckled skin, tawny from a long summer spent outside. His auburn hair shines copper from the same treatment, and it makes my stomach twist painfully. I’ve already survived two years of the vicious beauty that is Simon Snow. I can do it again—but it’s so hard to look away. 

“You should talk to him,” Dev whispers, leaning in close. “You’ve been staring at him for two years, and someone is bound to notice if they haven’t already.” 

“What?” I start, turning back to glare at my cousin. “Not a chance.” 

“He’s too nice to reject you, Baz,” 

“So you think he’d converse with me out of pity, then? Thank you for the vote of confidence, Devereux.” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he sighs, leaning back. “Are you just going to gawk at him for the rest of your uni career?” 

“It’s worked out for me thus far,” I grumble in response, and Dev rolls his eyes at me again. 

“Has it? Because you look like you’re gonna vomit every time he stands near you.” 

“Arguably, that could be the lack of sleep.” I say, as a sour taste finds itself in my mouth. “You know as well as I do that speaking to Snow would end very poorly for me.” 

“No, it wouldn’t. You’re just a pessimist in need of a fucking pick me up.” Dev snaps before standing and grabbing his trumpet case. “Talk to him by the end of term, Baz. Do it or I’ll throw you in the river.” Then my cousin walks across the room to sit in the trumpet section, pointedly ignoring my glare. 

I roll my eyes and chance another look at Snow, only to find him staring right at me. _What?_ Then, he waves. 

My face heats instantly, and I turn sharply in my seat to avoid him seeing, only realizing after that it probably looked like I was blowing him off. When our conductor walks in, everyone snaps to attention, ready to begin, and I try to make myself forget the sinking feeling deep in the chest. 

  
  


Dev and I are in the hallway of the music building after orchestra, waiting for Niall to get out of practice. Contrary to Dev and I, Niall went down a more unconventional path when it came to musical education. He plays guitar, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, the university allowed him both in, and to start a grungy garage band that only plays covers of bad alternative rock and pop-punk songs. Dev thinks it’s tasteful, but then again he also finds _Niall_ tasteful. I find it tacky. When Dev and I are busy playing Tchaikovsky, Niall is learning new ways to make noise. 

I sigh heavily, leaning my head back against the wall, “They should be done by now,” I say. 

“Yeah, it’s well past six,” Dev agrees, picking at the lint on his jumper. “I’m hungry.” 

“You’re always hungry,” I reply, rolling my eyes. 

“Yeah but I’m _especially_ hungry after playing Berlioz,” Dev grumbles. 

“When Niall gets out we’ll hit a chippy, alright? Stop whining.” 

As if on cue, the door swings open and Niall steps out with his guitar case hanging off his shoulder, and a gloomy frown on his face. 

“Alright?” Dev asks, and Niall just sighs exasperatedly. 

“No,” Niall replies grumpily, running a hand over his face. We start walking down the hallway towards the stairwell, and Dev and I are both staring at him expectantly as we go through the door. 

“What’s going on?” I ask. 

“Our bass player just quit. Just up and ditched us with no warning, and expected us to be cool with it. Said he’s got ‘too much on his plate’, as if all of us aren’t also going to school. Fucking wanker,” Niall says, “We’ve got a gig this weekend, too. An _actual gig_. This is the worst possible time for him to pull something like this.” 

Dev looks at me, and then: “Baz’s got that bass player that lives above him?” 

“I’m not asking my inconsiderate neighbour if he wants to join my friend’s band,” I retort, rolling my eyes, causing Dev to frown at me. 

“It’s alright, you know? We’ll find someone. It’ll just take some time.” 

“That’s the spirit, mate!” Dev whoops, and then grins mischievously. “So, chips?” 

——

When I get home, I can already hear the sound of bass coming from upstairs before I even unlock my door. 

“Come off it, mate,” I grumble as I slip off my shoes and throw my keys into the bowl on my foyer table. “Find a new hobby! Maybe take up knitting and _sitting still_.” 

I slip my jacket from my shoulders and throw it over the back of my couch before running my fingers through my hair, letting out a long sigh. Just then, a loud screech rips through the atmosphere, and I have to hold very still to keep myself from throwing something at the ceiling. 

“Fuck off!” I shout, praying they can hear me, but when the bass doesn’t stop, I know they didn’t. Or, they chose to ignore me. 

One of these days.  
  


One of these days I will march up those steps and give that bloke a piece of my mind. But until I get over my social anxiety and aversion to meeting new people, the soundtrack of my life will be the same bass line, played 63 times in a row. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos make my day. I just love it. Also, I love you all. 
> 
> See you next time!


	2. Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dev schemes, Simon shines, and Baz has a horrible case of foot-in-mouth syndrome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, HELLO strangers. I'm back from the dead! 
> 
> No, in reality, I just wasn't feeling this whole writing thing the last couple on months. Quarantine, amirite? I'd say I've been busy but that's a lie. I've just been reading and working and most importantly, moving! Again! Which sucks! 
> 
> So I'm sorry for the longish wait, but I'm back with a new chapter and some ANGST. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

As the fall term breezes past, I wake up every morning with a splitting headache, and I pray that my upstairs neighbour loses his fingers. The bass playing stays consistent, and never stops before three in the morning, leaving me with less than four hours of sleep  _ on a good night _ . My grades, remarkably, have not slipped much, but the bags under my eyes are starting to become designer, and my hair has lost it’s glossy shine. Dev and Niall sigh when they look at me, Niall says I look fucking  _ pale  _ (it’s his way of saying I look dead), and though orchestra practice used to be my safe haven, it has slowly become my own personal Hell. There is no escape from my suffering, and I’m going to lose it. 

“You’re frowning,” Dev whispers to me, one day before practice. 

“I’m always frowning,” I reply, turning my glare to him. “I have resting bitch face.” 

“Although that is true, you don’t usually frown at  _ him _ ,” Dev says, nodding his head towards where Snow is standing, tuning his instrument. “Usually you have stars in your eyes.” 

“I don’t have enough energy for stars, Dev. I barely have enough energy to keep my eyes _ open _ .” 

“Baz, mate, seriously. Haven’t you had enough? Come stay at mine this week, just for a couple of days. I’m not asking. You need to rest. You look like shit.

“Don’t sugar coat it, cousin.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Dev smiles sweetly.  _ Prick.  _

I sigh heavily, rolling my eyes and slumping back in my seat. “If I come for a few days, will you leave it alone?” 

“Yes.”

“Fine.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright. Good. Then maybe once you’ve had some decent sleep, you’ll grow a pair and talk to your landlady about the noise.” 

“Doubted, but that was a nice shot.” 

“I tried.” Dev shrugs, before laughing weakly and standing up. “Maybe you’ll try talking to Simon, then.” 

“Don’t push it.” I smile. “Now, if you’d kindly fuck off?” I say, and Dev frowns at me briefly before moving to his section. 

Things between Simon Snow and I have not developed over the course of the term. He waved at me that one time, months ago, and I’ve been avoiding his gaze ever since. But he’s just so friendly and so loud all the time, it’s almost impossible to look anywhere else but at him. But the worst development of all: Simon Snow has  _ groupies _ . I’ve noticed them a couple of times around campus, always hanging off Snow’s arms. Dev informs me that they are actually just his  _ friends _ , but they cling to him like he provides oxygen and I personally think the term groupie serves the purpose far better anyway. Agatha Wellbelove and Penelope Bunce, Dev says, resident sweetheart and world-class know-it-all, respectively, and they orbit Simon Snow like he’s the sun. I can’t say I blame them honestly, I’d be Icarus too if he’d let me. 

Our conductor walks in, and practice begins. I spare one final glance toward Snow, and find that he's already looking at me. Again.  _ Oh, hell.  _

_______________________

October approaches and with it, Halloween. It’s not a holiday we really celebrate, but young university students will take anything as an excuse to party, and Devereaux Grimm is no exception to that statement. He’s been planning it for weeks, claiming it’s going to be the biggest off-campus party to date, and I shudder to think what kind of trouble I’m bound to be roped into. Niall and I have been helping build the guest list and decorate the apartment for weeks, and on more than one occasion I have crashed in Dev’s guest room following the week where he wouldn’t let me go home. I hesitate to admit it, and I definitely won’t admit that he was right, but the full night’s rest really has served me wonders. Niall said my hair was shiny again that following Saturday, so I shoved him from his seat. 

It’s the Friday before Halloween and Dev, Niall and I are studying in the grass outside the music building, enjoying the last days of sun before London gets swallowed by the winter clouds. Dev is laying on his back humming quietly to himself, moving his fingers in the air as if he’s still playing the trumpet, and Niall is staring off into space in the opposite direction, lost in thought. My French textbook is splayed across my lap, and I’m writing notes carefully when Niall bumps my foot, causing my pen to dive across the page. 

“Oi,” I growl, looking up sharply, but Niall’s gaze is following someone through the yard. I turn to look, and see none other than Simon Snow, walking side-by-side with Agatha Wellbelove, looking every bit the shiny duo. 

“Ah, charming,” I grumble, “Isn’t that picturesque.” 

“They’re just friends, Baz.” Dev adds, now sitting up to watch. 

“He’s not looking at her like they’re just friends, mate,” Niall adds, unhelpfully. 

“I asked Simon last week if he was dating anyone and he said no.” Dev answers, and I whip my head around to look at him. 

“You did  _ what? _ ” 

“I knew you wouldn’t ask, because you’re a little bitch, so I did it for you.” 

“Dev, you had absolutely no right--”

“No right to what? Inquire about the relationship status of a friend?” 

“Friend?” Niall asks, confused. “Since when are you friends with Simon Snow?” 

“We, you know--chat, sometimes--in orchestra. He’s a nice guy! Bit of a weird one, but nice nonetheless! I’m allowed to be friends with people other than you two blokes.” 

“Why did you ask him that?” I ask again. 

“Because you clearly weren’t going to,” Dev shrugs. “And now you know.” 

“It doesn’t matter either way, Dev!” I snarl, feeling the emotion crawl up my throat. “He has never, and will never, look at me the way he’s looking at her. For all we know, he’s probably straight, and I’m content with that.” 

“Are you?” Dev asks, narrowing his eyes at me. “Doesn’t sound like it.” 

“Yes,” I hiss. “I have to be. Because people like me don’t get to have people like him.” 

“Baz--” Dev starts, but I hold my hand up to stop him. 

“That’s enough.” I say, gathering my things into my bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

  
  


When I get back to my flat, there’s silence above me. I shed my bag and my coat, and slump down onto my couch, letting the waves of embarrassment wash over me. Simon Snow is single. Constantly around two women who clearly worship the ground he walks on, and he’s still single. How is that even possible? 

_______________

I wake up on the couch the next morning with a pounding in my head, equal to that of a hangover, but without the alcohol. Tonight is Dev’s stupid Halloween party, and it’s the last thing I want to do. But I told him I’d go and I told him I’d help set up, and no matter how much my cousin irritates me, I’m not a flake. 

After showering and drowning my headache with coffee, I start off toward Dev’s flat. He answers the door when I arrive brightly, smiling too large for his face. 

“Cut it out, I’m not mad.” I tell him, shoving past him to get inside. 

“Oh, you’re not?” 

“No. Irritated, yes. Mad? No.” 

“Oh.” Dev sighs. 

“So, what do you need help with then?” I ask, looking around at the decorations we’ve spent weeks setting up. Dev doesn’t answer me, so I turn back to look at him. 

“Baz, there’s something I should tell you.” He says when I meet his gaze. 

“What? What is it?” 

“I kind of...invited Simon to come tonight.” He says, wincing as the words leave his mouth. 

“Devereaux.” 

“Basilton.” 

“I better not have heard what I think I just did.” 

“You did.” 

“Devereaux.” 

“Basilton…”

“I’ll kill you.” 

“I know.” 

“With my bare hands.” 

“I know.” 

“I wanted to have fun, tonight, Devereaux.” 

“You still can, Baz, there’s gonna be so many people--” 

“Oh, I can, can I? Please, enlighten me as to how I’ll be able to have fun when the guy I’ve had a crush on for two years is going to be traipsing around your flat looking handsome and now apparently  _ single _ ?” 

“What you just said sounds like the opposite of a bad time, though…” Dev says, frowning at me. “You could, you know, talk to him. Make conversation. Ask him to dance. It’s a party, Baz, it’s not supposed to be stressful.” 

“Ha,” I laugh. “Okay.” 

“Baz, just take it easy. I’ll be your wingman.” 

“Oooooh no. No, no.” I shake my head at him. “No wingmanning for you. You’re my walking nightmare. You’ll embarrass the fuck out of me.” 

“Oh, be quiet. You’ll do a fine enough job of that on your own.” 

“Do you want my help or are you just going to continue insulting me?” I growl, and Dev just smirks at me. 

“Yeah, I want your help, you wanker. We need ice, and more cups. Go to the store and get out of my hair.” 

“You’re incredibly rude.” 

“Runs in the family.” 

_______________________

At midnight, I’m sufficiently drunk. Dev’s been handing me shots of god knows what all evening, and Niall’s been steadily helping me avoid Simon Snow. He looks beautiful, of course. His curls look windblown and he’s wearing a loose, short sleeve button down, looking every bit the sunkissed supermodel. I don’t know who gave him those genes, but I owe them my life. 

I’m caught, once or twice, staring at him across the large flat, and to no one’s surprise, I have a harder time pulling my eyes away when I’ve been drinking. Luckily, Niall is the best friend a bloke could ask for, and drags my attention away before I can embarrass myself further. 

“You’re looking a little pissed, Baz. Water?” He asks me, guiding me toward the kitchen. We stumble there together, and I thank my stars that Niall is a coherent drunk, unlike Dev, who’s busy dancing to Lady Gaga on his own expensive coffee table across the room. 

“I should talk to him.” 

“Who, Dev?” 

“Simon.” 

“Simon? Um…” Niall gapes, looking between me and Snow, unsure of how to proceed. “Maybe that’s not the best idea?”

“No, you’re right. I’m being silly.” 

“Maybe when you’re sober, huh?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “No, nope. No way.” 

“Oh, well. I don’t know what to tell you then--” Niall stops and his eyes widen, and I turn to see what he’s looking at. 

Simon Snow is making his way toward the kitchen. He weaves effortlessly through the crowd, and all Niall and I can do is watch in disbelief. 

“Hey!” Snow shouts at us over the music. “How’re you?” 

“Good.” Niall nods, his eyes still shooting back and forth between us. 

“Hi, Baz.” Snow says warmly, and it takes all my residual strength not to let my mouth fall open. 

“Uh--hi.” I reply, and he smiles his megawatt smile, nearly blinding me. A crash comes from behind him, and we all turn to see Dev collapse off the table and onto the floor. 

“Good god, I better go help him. Alright, Baz?” Niall checks, searching my face. I nod once, and he smiles weakly, patting me on the shoulder before turning away and running off to help Dev. 

“Dev sure knows how to throw a party.” Snow says, and my mind has to play catch up as my heart runs a marathon in my chest at the fact that I’m having a conversation with Simon Snow.

“He had help.” I reply eventually, frowning in the direction of my cousin. 

“Oh, I’m sure.” Snow laughs, and it makes my chest ache. “So, orchestra is great this semester, right?”

“Yeah, it is.” 

“You play violin really well, I mean--you play well with everyone. Your violin skills are good. You know. For...advanced....orchestra…” He mumbles, his voice quieting as he nears the end of the sentence. He’s looking at me expectantly with his ocean blue eyes, and I almost feel my knees give out. 

“Thank you. Your bass skills are good as well.” I reply stiffly, staring at him.  _ Did Simon Snow just compliment me?  _

“Thanks. That means a lot.” He smiles genuinely, and it lights up his face. His cheeks redden, and he looks down at the cup he’s holding. 

“Does it? You’re the chosen one after all.” I sneer, because I have to ruin everything, and Snow looks up at me like I smacked him. 

“Oh, I mean, that’s just some silly nickname. It’s not--I’m not really--”

“And why are you even over here? Don’t you have to entertain your girlfriends?” I say, regretting it immediately. His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and he gapes at me.

“Girlfriends? What? Baz--” 

“You’ve never talked to me before, Snow. Why now?” I ask, the heat rising up to my chest and my cheeks. 

“That’s exactly why. We’ve never talked before...I--”

“Oh, what, you think that just because you’re popular and gorgeous, everyone wants to talk to you and be your friend?” I say before I can stop myself, and then I’m promptly slapping a hand over my mouth after the words have already spilled from my lips. 

“What?” He gapes at me, eyes wide and mouth open. 

“I have to go.” I say, shoving past him and making my way towards the door. I pull my jacket from a hook by the door and throw myself out into the cold October night. If I hear my name shouted by several different people, I don’t turn back. 

I just called Simon Snow gorgeous and he had the audacity to  _ hear me _ . 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. You guys are seriously the best, and the sole reason I do this. (It's also just kinda fun, what can I say)
> 
> If you like, please leave a comment letting me know what you think of this chapter/fic. I appreciate them so much! 
> 
> I'm currently taking a break from most social media, but if you like, you can follow me on tumblr @captain-sass-pants as I'm usually on there every once in awhile. 
> 
> See you next time! (Hopefully it won't be as long of a wait next time)


End file.
